Changing Lanes: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 2)

by A. Marie

  Falling asleep in Beckett’s bed is not an option though, so I vow to stay like this only until he calms down, then I’ll return to my own bed. If I don’t move at all, it’ll help even more.

  * * *

  Wiggling. There’s a wiggling in my side. It’s not necessarily unpleasant but I don’t know where it’s coming from and that worries me. I couldn’t feel my limbs and now some part of me is moving without my knowledge.

  Something—warm and large—expands under my back causing my stomach to churn and acid burns at the back of my throat even as I swallow repeatedly.

  Then, without warning, a groan thunders through my chest as I roll to the side in preparation for the impending purge.

  “What the hell?”

  My eyes pop open hearing a gruff, male voice behind me, and I spot Beckett’s room in all its glory. Ah, shit. I fell asleep after all.

  My groaning amplifies tenfold. This is not good.

  Swift movement that shakes the entire mattress has me gripping my stomach.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Beckett’s hand gently smooths my hair away from my sticky face. “I’m right here. What do you need?”

  “Space,” I murmur, trying to push away from him.

  Beckett rumbles with laughter. “Too late, girl. You should’ve thought of that before climbing in my bed.”

  “Ugh. I did not climb in your bed.”

  “Oh yeah? How’d you get in here then?”

  My head dangles precariously off the edge as I consider my next words. Do I tell him the truth? About what Marc revealed last night? What I saw? Would he even want me to know what I do?

  “Blame Jack Daniel’s,” I say shortly. “He obviously led me to the wrong room.”

  “You got drunk last night? Why didn’t you wake me?”

  My eyebrows pull together and I roll my neck, coming face-to-face with Beckett. His gaze roams my face, lingering on my scratched-up forehead before meeting my eyes.

  A big, gentle hand cups my cheek as he gazes down at me and his voice drops dangerously low as he says, “I was worried about you.”

  “I couldn’t tell.”

  I try to roll my eyes but the dark feels so good I leave them closed instead.

  Beckett ignores my sarcasm, asking, “What happened? Can you tell me who did this to you?”

  Opening them once again, I glare at him. “Why do you assume someone did it to me? Why couldn’t I have done it to myself?”

  His eyes study mine.

  “Did you?”

  Sighing, I roll to my back and bend my knees, placing my feet flat against the mattress. “It’s complicated.”

  There are rules about these kinds of things. Laws. You can’t just tell people about your patients. That’s confidential with a capital C.

  Honestly though, even if I could talk about it, I wouldn’t. Because then I’d have to admit that maybe I’m the one that put my mom in more danger by moving her than Dennis did in that hallway and I’m not doing that. Not yet. Like I told Rosie, we’re still in the adjustment phase. So we’ll…adjust.

  We’ll get there. We have to.

  “I’m serious, Paige.”

  His warm thumb rubs my temple and I lean into his touch before I realize what I’m doing.

  “So am I,” I whisper, drinking in his oceanic eyes.

  The moment stretches as does the silence, neither of us willing to break the spell that’s settled over us. The Headache picks now to come out from hiding but is promptly shoved aside as soon as Beckett leans forward, bringing his lips in close. Just before they reach mine, he veers north, laying gentle kisses above each eyebrow.

  Both of my eyes close on a strangled moan.

  “You need medicine.”

  What?

  I’m just about to tell him exactly what kind of remedy he can provide when he asks, “Why is my bed soaking wet?”

  Oh. Oh.

  “I forgot to dry off after a late-night dip. Sorry.” I cringe. “Are you mad?”

  After a beat of awkward silence, he shrugs, saying, “It’s not the first time a girl’s been wet in my bed.” He gingerly crawls over my body, pausing just long enough for my pulse to spike while taking care not to put any of his weight on me, then pushes up to standing as he walks to his dresser. “And it won’t be the last.”

  Grabbing the first thing I can find, I lob it right at his head, missing by an inch as it—his wallet—sails into the wall beside him. I don’t even know why I did that but it was out of my hand before I could fully contemplate the exact reasoning so I grit my teeth and roll with it as I climb out of bed.

  “What the fuck was that for?” Beckett does a ridiculous double-take like he can’t believe a girl can actually throw.

  And for my next trick, I’ll chew gum while walking.

  “Your mouth is such a problem,” I grumble as I storm past.

  Unfortunately, he catches my elbow and cages me against the wall before I can get far. His gaze skims over my face again starting from the top and ending at my mouth. His breathing speeds up and I press myself into the wall so I don’t rub on him like I want to. This is already embarrassing enough.

  “You don’t seem to mind it when my mouth is all over you.”

  “On me? No, I don’t mind that at all. Off and running without proper supervision? That’s where I take issue.”

  He stares into my eyes, the gears behind his turning in perfect synchronization. What’s he thinking?

  “Come to work with me.”

  “What?”

  That’s so not where I thought he was taking this.

  “You’re off today, right?” I nod slowly, watching him. “So, hang out with me for the day. I can doctor you.”

  “Pfft, you don’t even know what you’re doing.”

  “I got a crash course from the pharmacist yesterday. Then, later you can wear a nurse’s outfit and we can role-play. It’ll be fun.”

  “Are you talking about that stupid Halloween costume? You do know literally nobody wears that shit anymore, right?”

  “Fine, you talked me out of it. You can be naked.” I frown at him, not completely hating the idea but then he says, “And I’ll show you my P.H.D. Pretty huge dick.”

  My knuckles tap his stomach, making a puff of laughter leave his lips before he grabs my hand, running his thumb along my fingers. It’s such a sweet gesture. This whole morning has been like some alternate reality, one where Beckett and I are actual friends and can stand the sight of each other.

  Admittedly, I’ve always liked Beckett’s appearance—I’ve fallen victim to his all-American-on-growth-hormones good looks—it’s the talking I could do without.

  “Seriously though, I’m glad you stayed with me last night.”

  A look of horror crosses my face before I can school my features. Please, make it stop. Does he think he has to play up the nice guy role now? I don’t need my hand held during the awkward morning after. I’ve got this shit down.

  Besides, we didn’t do anything. Not really. Spooning doesn’t count unless there’s penetration…of some kind.

  “I told you that was an accident.” One that won’t happen again. “Thanks for getting all that stuff for me.”

  “I wanted to.” His eyebrows dip with determination I don’t fully understand. “And you’re welcome. So, it’s settled then? You’ll be my assistant?” At my silence he urges, “What else do you have to do today?”

  “Wash my hair?” It comes out as a joke but washing this mop is no laughing matter. That shit takes forever and is a real arm killer. I already feel a bone deep soreness from last night setting in.

  Beckett’s eyes spark with mischief as he leans down to rest his lips a breath from my ear, saying, “I can do that for you, too. Shower with me and I’ll wash everything.”

  As usual, Beckett has to go and fuck things up. The guy just can’t help but play around.

  Twisting my head to the side so my lips mimic his just below his ear, I murmur, “We both know I’m more
than capable of taking care of my own needs.”

  Large palms flatten against the wall next to my head.

  “You can never give me an inch, can you?”

  Scoffing, I push him back. “Not when you’re constantly talking shit.”

  “Who says I’m talking shit?” He frowns, making me squint up at him.

  Isn’t he always? That’s what Beckett does—he riles up my hormones before stirring the cauldron of bubbling estrogen, trying to piss me off.

  But this morning, I can’t deny he’s being different. So far anyway. I just don’t know how long it’ll last.

  “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, baby.”

  His scowl deepens as I shove past into the hall between our rooms and surprisingly he lets me go but not before calling to my back, “We leave in twenty.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I mumble as I shut the bathroom door.

  And lock it.

  CHAPTER 16

  Paige

  Forty minutes later, Beckett finds me sitting cross-legged on the counter in an oversized tee and my favorite pair of shredded shorts. Through fresh eyes I watch him approach as I lift a steaming mug of chai tea to my lips.

  “We could save a ton of time if we start showering together, you know? Not to mention all the water we’d be saving. It’s the green thing to do, really. We’re being irresponsible when you think about it.”

  A smirk tips my lip as I set my tea down. “Uh huh, sure. And do you? Think about it?”

  His eyes scan me and even though I’m fully dressed, I shift to cover what he can’t even see. What I hope he never finds.

  Somehow it feels like he already has though. Things are changing. There’s been a shift. A weight’s been lifted from the heavy strain between the two of us. It’s lighter. He’s lighter. I’m lighter—lighter than I’ve been in weeks, months, maybe longer.

  More serious than I’ve ever seen him, he joins me at the counter. Standing against the smooth surface, Beckett grabs my legs, slowly unfolding them to fit on each side of his hips before bringing his hands up to my face and saying, “It’s one of my favorite hobbies.”

  I shove his shoulder making him crack a smile. He doesn’t bother removing his hands though and I grin against the pads of his thumbs.

  “Let me put something on that and we’ll head out.” He nods to my forehead.

  “You don’t have to baby me. I already took care of it. And I’m not going. My face is jacked three ways from Sunday. I don’t need anyone gawking at me.”

  Finally dropping his hands, he settles them on my thighs that are still spread around his and scoffs. “People gawk at you anyway. Your face is perfect, it’s just a little banged up right now.” My cheeks warm from his words. There is nothing perfect about me but it still feels good to hear him say it. “But if you don’t want anyone staring at you, consider it done. I thought that was already established but if you need me to say it, fine, nobody but me will so much as look your way.”

  My eyes narrow. “Does everyone find your arrogance as annoying as I do?”

  “God, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he growls. “Now come on, girl, let’s go. We’re already late because you had to wash your hair.”

  “I didn’t wash my hair,” I tell him seriously.

  “What the hell took you so long then?”

  I only quirk an eyebrow which causes both of his to shoot upward. Suddenly, I’m lifted off the counter and pressed against his rock-hard body. And I mean everything is rock-hard. The contact through my tattered shorts makes me gasp.

  “Make another noise like that and we won’t be leaving the house at all.”

  A devious laugh slides between us and the temptation follows us all the way out to his SUV.

  * * *

  “Can you grab that-” Beckett’s eyes widen at the lug wrench hovering over his shoulder and he jerks his gaze up to mine. “How’d you know what I needed?”

  “I was helping my brother kick around the garage before I had my first bra.” His eyes drop to my chest and I cock my head at him, asking, “Do you mind?”

  Without missing a beat and still openly gaping at my breasts, he nods his head up and down dramatically while answering, “no.”

  I let out a breathy chuckle but only when I raise the tool in the air threatening to hit him with it, does he finally snap out of his trance.

  “When you said you’d be the only one looking at me, I didn’t know you meant in a sick, perverted way.”

  “You should always assume I’m looking at you in a sick, perverted way. My perversion knows no limits.”

  Shaking my head, I hop down from my perch on his work bench to help him with the tire he’s trying to remove. We’ve been working together on various forms of transportation all day. It’s amazing to watch him go from being under a standard sedan to the exotic three-wheeler that was just brought in. There’s no question the guy knows his stuff and I bet Ty would love to pick his brain, if given the chance.

  Beckett’s knowledge and confidence is also sexy as hell. I find myself fantasizing about his sure fingers about every few minutes and it’s becoming a bit of a problem the longer I’m here with him. He’s both fast and effective but also pays special attention to the minor details most people would likely ignore.

  Like now.

  The trike was dropped off with a complaint about steering in tight turns so after taking it out in a few twisties of our own, we’re back in the shop with it hoisted on the lift as Beckett adjusts the back wheel. Hands down it was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed and I’m still riding the high of watching him in his element. His strong arms laced with throbbing veins expertly maneuvering through the sharp curves…easily top five fantasy material.

  “What’s that look for?”

  I look up to see Beckett boldly grinning at me and I shrug. “I like watching you work. It feels so familiar but different at the same time.” Like most things with Beckett.

  His eyebrows dip. “How so?”

  Where do I begin? Tysen would spend hours in our old one-car garage, constantly tinkering around with whatever junker he could get his grease-caked hands on. Even in his teens, his hands had grease clinging to every crease. Beckett’s aren’t like that though. You’d never even know Beckett worked on cars for a living by looking at him. His hands are slightly calloused from obvious hard work but nothing like my brother’s. And they’re clean, too. Like obsessively clean. His entire workspace is actually. Which is the opposite of my experience with my middle brother.

  The smell’s the same though—a mixture of fuel, oil, and freshly laundered cheap cotton blend. Ty’s pants were cheap, but I doubt Beckett’s are. He’s…particular, I’ve realized. About everything. For someone who laughs his way through life he sure does notice everything around him.

  Grabbing my water from lunch, I say with a sigh, “Another life.” One I miss with every ounce of my being.

  My roommates’ other friend, Coty, comes out of their office with his gaze focused on the ground. As soon as he notices me, or more specifically my face, his eyes narrow and he swings a glare up at Beckett. Beckett gives his head a subtle shake in response.

  This has been happening all day. My forehead is starting to scab up already even through the half-inch of glossy medicine Beckett insists needs to be there. I don’t have the heart to tell him that much isn’t necessary but he’s kept to his word that people wouldn’t bother me so far. I’d say they’re just scared of being slimed but Beckett’s severe glower alone has been doing a pretty good job keeping everyone away from our little bubble.

  “Paige, right? I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Coty.” We shake hands briefly. It feels weird touching him, like I might get zapped with a taser if our hands clasp longer than half a second. “How are you holding up over there? Everyone treatin’ you alright?”

  The pointed stare he gives Beckett is not lost on me. Or Beckett. The guy tosses his rag on his tool box, holding Coty’s watchful gaze w
ith one of his own.

  “Actually, I was thinking about moving out already. My roommates are terrible slobs.”

  Coty’s eyebrows shoot skyward and we both glance over at Beckett. His arms cross over his chest, the veins in his forearms pulsing like they’re at one of Cynthia’s raves, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “I’m just kidding. They’re surprisingly clean.”

  My brothers were so messy that anytime we’d make bets, the loser would have to clean something in the house. It was the one thing everyone agreed on—the house was a pigsty and the boys were the pigs. Even our mom would try to get out of cleaning. That became a regular punishment in our teen years. I’m not sure if it did the trick though since they’re still shitheads and not at all clean. I miss them.

  “I met your girlfriend last time. Angela? She was really nice.”

  Beckett scoffs, finally breaking his silence. “Don’t tell her that.”

  “Get fucked,” Coty replies to Beckett in complete monotone that says they’ve been over this before. Many times.

  “Is that an offer?” Beckett holds his hands in front of him like he’s praying and I snicker under my breath.

  Coty shakes his head, trying to hold back his own laugh and says to me, “We’re having a little housewarming party at the new place. Why don’t you come? Angela was just talking about needing more girls around.”

  The refusal is on the tip of my tongue before he finishes. “Thanks, but I’m not going anywhere like this.” I point to the globby mess on my forehead. “Beckett’s lucky he got me here today. If it wasn’t for him dragging me-”

  “Bullshit. You’re just as much a motorhead as half the guys I got working here. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were eyeing that Scrambler 1200 that came in earlier.”

  The urge to wipe that smirk off his face has me rocking on the balls of my feet but I don’t. The jerk’s right and he knows it.